The Raven and the Dove

by Kaitlyn Davis

  Lyana didn’t miss the quick motion of an ebony wing stretching and shoving the prince forward an inch, but she refused to look at the source of the gesture. Her mind wandered where her eyes would not, drifting back to the night where her hands were pressed against his bare skin, in the muscular valley between his wings. Lyana blinked the vision away, focusing only on the words he’d spoken as he told her of his home—the mountains, the river, the city nestled in a valley, and the godly entrance to another world.

  “Taetanos’s Gate,” Lyana exclaimed suddenly, some of her enthusiasm returning as she remembered the House of Whispers had much more to offer than the forest around her. “Oh, can we see it? Please? Even just from the air?”

  “Who told you—” Lysander broke off abruptly, turning toward his half brother.

  This time, Lyana couldn’t help turning to the man she tried to remember was Rafe, and not Lysander. Rafe. Rafe.

  What kind of name is that? she spat silently, clinging to every ounce of wrath she could muster, because anger was so much easier to deal with than all the other emotions swirling like a storm in her chest. Rafe? More like rude, repugnant, repulsive, re-, re-, re-

  Real.

  Rare.

  Lyana shook her head to clear it, but her eyes remained glued to him. He’d turned away, presenting them with his profile as he stared into the woods. Lyana had a sneaking suspicion that if he’d dared to meet her gaze, she would have seen the same memory reflected in his eyes as was playing in hers. The two of them in their own world, a halo of light in a cave of darkness, something that now seemed little more than a dream—one that lingered in her waking hours, rather than fading blissfully into the realm of the forgotten.

  Don’t think about it.

  Don’t think about him.

  Much as she’d loathed his delivery of sharp words the night before, Lyana couldn’t deny they were true. He wasn’t her friend, or her confidante, or her anything. A fact that had never been more evident than in this moment, standing in this clearing with the far-to-curious interest of the flock shifting between them. For the sake of her happiness, Rafe had to be nothing. For the sake of her mate, she had to bury him away.

  The prince cleared his throat as the uncomfortable silence lengthened.

  Lyana pulled her gaze from one raven and switched it to the other, remembering what Rafe had called the prince the night before. Xander. She liked it better than Lysander, because it was new and light, not full of foolish wishes that would never come true.

  He was her future.

  He was her mate.

  She was determined to give their life a chance.

  “Xander,” she said, testing the name, enjoying how it rolled from her lips, a little hesitant and unsure, just like they were about each other. His eyes softened, losing their edge. “Will you show me?”

  35

  Xander

  He must have held his breath the rest of the way through the mountains. The sweeping forests of his homeland were mostly uninhabited, gliding up and down in sharp ridges and some barren cliffs, even a few snow-capped peaks that remained through summer. Most of his people chose to live in the valley, in the city of Pylaeon, where the castle was nestled. They were the least populated isle and the smallest, though the journey seemed endless as his eyes continued to drift to the princess time and time again. His chest felt tight, his mind unable to erase the disappointment flashing through her face—disappointment at him.

  Please be impressed, he thought as the thundering of water made its way to his ear, signaling they were almost there.

  Please be impressed.

  By the view? By his home? By him?

  Xander wasn’t really sure.

  All he knew was that when they crested the final peak, he heard her gasp, and it was one of the sweetest sounds he could ever remember. When he glanced in her direction, a warm feeling spread inside him as he saw her wide, dazzled eyes and the mouth that had opened in wonder. Her wings beat faster, led by her excitement, but the rest of her remained still as she took in the scene.

  The waterfall seemed to appear from nowhere as the two mountain peaks framing the valley abruptly gave way to rock and cliff. The many small rivers hidden among the trees merged right before the lip, hardly blending for a moment before they crashed and cascaded down three different plateaus, finally plunging a hundred feet into the deep pool below. The mist caught the dying light, turning it into a thousand twinkling stars. Half the valley was hidden in the shadows cast by the mountains, but the far stretches were bathed in a soft golden glow. The river glistened, the shaft of a burning arrow leading to a sharp point—his city, his home. Pylaeon sparkled as the glass from various windows caught the blaze of the sun, stark against the open air beyond, which was already dark with the coming night.

  Lyana dove over the edge, following the path of the water.

  This time, Xander followed, ignoring the chiding noise from his mother as soft laughter spilled from his lips, coaxed by the echo of glee the princess had left in her wake. He landed by her side, blinking as cool droplets of water landed on his cheeks from the towering waterfall.

  “This is Taetanos’s Gate,” he shouted over the roar. “The water hides the entrance to a deep cave, and our god stone is housed within, as is our sacred nest.”

  Lyana didn’t pull her gaze away from the view, but she did something else, something that made his heart lurch. She reached out and placed her hand on his arm, on his right arm, seemingly unaware that her fingers had found rounded flesh in place of a palm. She turned to him, finally finding his eyes as she said, “Show me.”

  He didn’t actually hear the words, but he didn’t have to.

  And though he knew his mother would not approve, he didn’t have the will to tell the princess no, not when she was looking at him like that, as though a little bit of her awe at his homeland belonged to him as well.

  He gently slid his arm from her grasp and pumped his wings, flying over the pool of water toward the heart of his land, acutely aware that his mate followed. They were going to get soaked, not exactly the first impression he’d had in mind when he thought of introducing his new mate to his people, but he found he didn’t mind the splashing over his wings as they rounded the side of the falls. Xander pointed to the semicircular hole near the base of the cliff, previously hidden by the water.

  “The spirit door is there,” he explained over the roar, and Lyana nodded as though she’d heard. “My people believe lost souls follow the river to the gate, and this is where they enter our god’s realm. Our sacred nest lies at the end of the passage, though we use a separate entrance to access it, one that’s a little less…wet.”

  Her smile grew even wider at his words. But her attention had already shifted from the rock, turning instead to the water rushing past them and crashing into the pool below, spraying their clothes.

  “Can I touch it?” she asked hesitantly as her hand extended toward the cascade.

  Xander shrugged. A boyish sense of mischief bubbled in him, something he hadn’t felt in a very long time. “Go ahead.”

  The princess paused as a hungry sort of gleam filled her eyes. Then she shoved both her arms into the fall, up to her elbows, releasing a yelp as the pressure of the water made her drop a solid ten feet before she was able to beat her wings and retreat. She spun to face him with a look of surprise. The front side of her body dripped wet—her leather jacket and trousers were drenched, and the fur around her neck had wilted with moisture. Just as quickly, she began to laugh, a loud, throaty sound that made her body shake.

  “Did you know that would happen?” she asked.

  His lips twitched. “Of course not.”

  The princess lifted a brow. Before he had a chance to back further away, her hands returned to the rushing liquid, this time to throw it in his direction. Xander darted sideways, but not before a splash hit his chest.

  Part of him wanted to retaliate.

  Part of him couldn’t believe she’d done it. />
  And part of him remembered that he was a crown prince, she was a future queen, and this sort of frivolity was a luxury they didn’t have.

  Before he got a chance to figure out which part of him was the strongest, a cough sounded behind him, loud despite the thunder echoing around them. Xander turned to find Rafe hovering in the shadows at the edge of the water, hands clasped behind his back as his wings flapped, nearly hidden in the folds of the coming night.

  “I know, I know.” Xander spoke before Rafe had a chance to, because normally he was the one on the other side of this lecture. And if his brother’s tight brows and thin lips were any indication, the mere thought of having to do the queen’s bidding had left Rafe physically ill.

  Xander turned back to the princess, noting that the grin was gone from her lips as she stared at the flowing water, the tips of her fingers grazing the stream, unwilling to be parted from it.

  “I’m sorry,” he told her with sincerity. “We really should get to the castle.”

  Lyana nodded.

  By the time Xander swiveled, his brother was gone. And when he skirted the edge of the falls, the sun, too, had disappeared—taking all the wonder and awe and magic of the past few minutes with it. The sky was in limbo, too light for the stars, too dark for clarity—a muddled sort of indigo that only served to remind Xander that he was wet, a little cold, and looking not at all like the regal champion he ought to be upon his return.

  You’re going to be a king. Xander landed beside his mother, seeing the same rebuke flash through her eyes as they noticed the wet stain on his chest. You must act like one.

  Yet he didn’t regret it—this small moment of putting himself and his mate first, a luxury he could rarely ever afford. Xander noted the wrinkled, wet clothes clinging to Lyana's body, the droplets of water spilling down her hair and onto her cheeks, the way her lips moved faster than a hummingbird’s wings as she leaned over to whisper to her friend. The princess had a light all her own, vibrant and vivacious. The very sight of her brought a hopeful feeling that hadn’t been there before. Lyana would never fit the mold he’d imagined his mate would, a quiet life companion, a figure of reserved strength, a ruler more like him. She was more than a princess.

  She was a force.

  If anyone could bring color to a house made of black, it was she. If anyone could return laughter to streets that had grown quiet from so much misfortune, it was she. If anyone could erase the past and restore the future, it was she.

  As her bright wings took to the dark air, Xander couldn’t help but wonder if, like the rushing waters of Taetanos’s Gate, she would somehow slip right between his fingers—too much for this small island to contain.

  36

  Cassi

  Cassi was exhausted. By the voyage, yes, but mostly by Lyana. All she’d wanted to do after the ravens led them through the claustrophobic stone walls of the castle to their rooms was collapse on the bed and sleep until she couldn’t sleep any longer. Alas, Lyana had wanted to talk…and talk…and talk, until Cassi feared her ears might bleed listening to her friend.

  First the trees, then the falls, then the river and the town and the castle. Just when Cassi had thought there was nothing else her friend could say, Lyana had swept aside the thick, heavy curtains blocking the balcony and charged outside, dragging Cassi with her so they could admire the view, which was, at least, magnificent.

  The castle sat right on the edge of the isle, teetering on the precipice. Half of the scene glittered in the light of the oil lanterns scattered among the houses, while the other half sparkled under the stars. Lyana, of course, had wanted to take a flying leap over the rails to explore her new home, but Cassi grabbed her foot at the last second to keep her grounded—reminding her enthusiastic friend that perhaps the prince would want to introduce her to his people himself. Lyana had wilted, a flower ripped away from the sun, but had relented before Cassi’s logic. Being reminded of the prince, however, had only given Lyana a new source of conversation. Cassi had obliged, fighting to keep her eyes open but eventually succumbed to fatigue.

  She woke a few hours later to blissful silence.

  Her back ached from falling asleep curled in a chair. Her wings were sore from draping over the arms at odd angles. But she was somewhat rested, relatively alert, and more importantly, Lyana was out cold in her bed, which meant Cassi’s real work could begin.

  She closed her eyes again, and awoke as the dreamwalker.

  A twinge of guilt pinched her as she glided across the room, through the curtains, and into the open air above the castle, leaving Lyana behind. Had this morning been her first time in the House of Whispers, Cassi probably would have been just as enthused as her friend, just as talkative, just as amazed. Instead, she’d been guarding her tongue, worn out by the secrets as she tried her best to respond without revealing that she had seen these trees and these mountains and this city many times before. That the wonder had long since faded, replaced with grim determination, which was what stirred in her veins now.

  Cassi dove through the mist, returning to the floating city where her king had been stationed the night before. His ship was still there, majestic and towering, and she made her way quickly inside, too run down to linger. Within moments, she was in his dream, weaving the image to her will and meeting his stormy eyes.

  “Thank you for coming back so soon, Kasiandra.”

  Cassi just nodded, mouth too dry for words, because she knew what was coming. It had been all she could think about during the long flight to the House of Whispers, with nothing to distract her but clear blue and dull gray, and a mind too imaginative for its own good.

  The creases at the corners of her king’s eyes deepened for a moment as he took note of her solemn mood, but as always, he moved past it and on to business. “I’ve decided on a course of action for the invinci.”

  She nodded again.

  This time, her throat constricted. As her king continued to outline his plan, a flame in her chest stretched out to her fingers and down to her toes, making her numb and incandescent all at once. Protests stirred in her stomach, but none reached her lips. The longer they festered, the more nauseous she became. Sick and ill. Disgusted and ashamed. As though each order he gave chipped away at her, bit by bit, until she was worried that by the end of it, there would be nothing left—of Cassi, of Kasiandra, of either.

  But she could do this one final thing.

  Especially when it might help save them all.

  “We’re depending on you, Kasiandra,” he concluded softly, placing his hand, heavy yet reassuring, on her shoulder—as though maybe, just maybe, he understood the weight of what he was asking. Her rubbed his thumb over the edge of her collarbone before dropping his arm. Her body leaned forward, chasing his touch.

  Malek…

  The word danced across her mind before she could stop it, control it, remember who he was. My king. My king. My king. Thinking of him as anything else was too painful.

  Cassi straightened her back. “I won’t let you down, my liege.”

  The dream dissolved.

  Though normally she liked to linger in his rooms, her spirit couldn’t wait to fly away—from his words, from his commands, from his all-too-knowing gaze. Cassi raced back into the fog, losing herself in the impenetrable mist, not pausing until the lights of the floating city had disappeared behind her and all she could hear was the thunder of the ocean instead of the thunder of her dreaming-heart, pounding and pounding with all the words she didn’t have the strength to say. No. No. No. She pushed the king from her thoughts and focused on the one good thing he’d requested she do—make a quick stop to see her mother.

  Cassi was three when her magic made itself known. In a world of endless ocean and fog, resources were scarce and magic scarcer still. Everyone who had the gift was handed over to the crown to provide whatever service needed, and in Cassi’s case, with her very rare, very specialized magic, that service had been subterfuge. Within a month of discovering her dreamwalki
ng, she’d been ripped from her mother’s arms, smuggled to the floating isle above, and deposited in a frozen tundra to be discovered by a troop of doves on their daily patrol. She hadn’t seen her mother since, not in flesh and blood, the way that truly counted. But she’d never forgotten the scent of her mother’s soul—salty air mixed with sugary-sweet magic and the slightest smoky burn of time spent chasing dragons.

  Cassi used that to find her through the mist.

  The ship wasn’t far, and she came upon it fast, slipping through the wooden boards, floating into the captain’s room, where a woman slept. Her tawny skin was etched with wrinkles and her brown hair streaked with gray, though the colorful fabric twisted around her curls made it difficult to tell.

  Captain Audezia’d’Rokaro.

  Her mother.

  She slept curled on her side in trousers and a loose shirt. A pair of worn leather boots stood by the bed. A black overcoat, roughly sewn yet warm and sturdy, hung from a post. But Cassi’s eyes went straight to the singular deep-brown wing with spots of white folded against her mother’s back. In the darkness of the cabin, it looked dull and muddy, but in the light of the sun, it was a dazzling copper. Once upon a time, in a different life, her mother had belonged to the House of Prey. But she’d been tossed over the edge when they discovered her magic, becoming one of the lucky few to survive the long fall to the world below.

  Cassi pressed her palm to her mother’s brow and dove into her dream, fighting the torrent as she warped the image to one of her own making. An endless grassy field. A cloudless blue sky. A sun shining brightly. And by her side, a hawk appeared with two perfect wings and frosty eyes that reminded her of the moon.

  “Kasiandra.”

  “Mother.”

  They didn’t embrace or gush or wilt at the sight of one another. Her mother had led a tough life, one that didn’t lend itself to histrionic displays of affection. She was a hunter, not a lover. But the warmth in her tone was enough for Cassi. In fact, it was everything.